


We Humble Heroes

by Tiny_Dragongirl



Series: French Kissing [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Christmas Tree, Drabble Collection, Enemies to Lovers, Fights, Identity Reveal, Kissing, M/M, Modern Era, Non-Chronological, christmas shenanigans, fireman carry, straightening bow tie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:23:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Dragongirl/pseuds/Tiny_Dragongirl
Summary: Drabbles from an alternate universe where Tréville (aka Captain France, resident superhero of Paris) fights with Richelieu (aka the Cardinal, evil genius).





	1. Common Ground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this [post](https://rogueholmes.tumblr.com/post/185758539799/mojojax2500-cheeseanonioncrisps).

Captain France takes aim but before he could shoot his gun, a sneaky little robot knocks it out of his hand, stinging him with its tiny spike. What a clever little machine.

“Sorry, Captain, but a hole would look bad on my cape,” the Cardinal snarls, sending him a smug half-smile. It makes the _ good _ Captain flinch; he must be itching with the urge to dislodge the Cardinal’s red three quarter mask off his face—so he throws a chipped marble tile towards him.

Too bad that the Cardinal easily blasts it into dust with a laser beam.

“Ooh, you wanted to play with your gun so badly?” And he also has the nerve to tease him.

His teasing only inspires the Captain to look for something bigger to throw at him. A medium-sized concrete block will do, for example.

“Says the guy who has robotic winged monkeys as minions.”

Pew! There goes another laser beam.

“_My _ mechanically engineered creatures took _ your _ gun, so—” The Cardinal taunts him but he can’t finish the sentence as a steel plate is flying towards him. He cuts it into two pieces with his laser, accidentally crushing one of his mechanically engineered minions in the process.

The Cardinal winces. Even though he was busy robbing a bank when the Captain stepped into the picture, he’s fairly sure the income won’t compensate for what it costs to repair his weapons and other tools every single time. Captain France really puts a damper on his business.

Sadly, this is how far he gets in examining the economic efficiency of his work because suddenly he finds himself pressed into the wall by the good Captain. Ahh. That steel plate must have _ distracted _ him a bit too much.

“Cheap trick,” he grunts.

“Yet you fell for it.”

It’s hard to speak while the air is slowly pressed out of him but still, he opens his mouth because he needs. To. Stall. For. Time.

“Hrrr,” the Cardinal wheezes. “Are you planning—” But he stops mid-sentence as realisation dawns on him. He lets out a little gasp, and the Captain, always the gentleman, immediately loosens his grip. “Shit! You have to let me go.”

“Now, now, _ that _is a cheap trick.”

“No, really. I’m late for Louis’ birthday party.”

Well. They might or might not have a common friend, namely Louis, who happens to host a birthday party tonight—and they both forgot about it. Worst friends ever? Probably.

“Holy crap, I totally forgot about that! Truce?”

“Truce.”

The Captain quickly lets him go and the Cardinal tries to smooth out the wrinkles caused by careless handling. Ironing his costume takes way too much precious time from making evil plans.

“We could go together.” The Captain suggests, effectively rendering the Cardinal speechless. “You know, undress first, then— Er, I mean, un_costume _ first, then just go. Casual.”

Even though the Cardinal hates to admit it, it’s a very tempting offer, but, but—

But he has to grit his teeth and say no because.

Because everything is too confused as it is. One common friend complicates things just enough, thank you very much, they don’t need anything else. They don’t need to be friends with each other. Or something like that.

So he squares his shoulder and says,

“I don’t do casual.”

The Captain merely shrugs; if he is disappointed, he doesn’t show it. Also, there isn’t much to read from a face when it’s covered by a mask.

“Anyway, if we’re done here, I shall go. I need to acquire a gift for Louis.”

“_Not _ destroying half of the city doesn’t count as a gift,” the Captain says and the Cardinal can’t help but smile a little at the remark.

“Then there is no point in rescheduling the death ray—”

“Don’t push me.”

This particular expression comes to his mind an hour later when he ends up standing in the same corner as the Captain (now unmasked and un_costumed _) at Louis’ party. Two party animals in their natural habitat, indeed.

“Armand.”

“Jean.”

Looking him up and down, Jean smirks. “You know, jeans are considered _ casual _ wear. Even black ones.”

Even though deep inside he’s amused, Armand masks his delight by growling at Jean.

“Don’t push me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Will they push each other too far?


	2. Keep Your Friends Close (But Your Enemies Closer)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How the Cardinal learnt the Captain's true identity. (Takes place waaaaay before chapter 1.)

“Stop right there!”

The Cardinal suppresses a groan. They entered business about the same time, he on the obscure side, the _ good _ Captain on the opposite side, and ever since, Captain France has interrupted his work more than any other superhero. It’s almost like the Captain is obsessed with him.

“You know, as much as I enjoy the attention you lavish on my work, you have an awful sense of timing.”

The Cardinal’s armory contains a bunch of ordinary weapons, ingenious inventions, and sarcastic comments. As an amateur physical chemists, he has a soft spot for mixtures and sarcasm is the kind of substance you can add to everything.

“That device could destroy the whole city—”

“In the wrong hands, yes,” the Cardinal sighs. Why do evil geniuses have to do so much explaining? Takes all the time.

“It’s in _ your _ hands.”

Fair point.

“Look, I’d love to cause chaos in a different city but this is our capital. I can’t plot in Metz. For Stan Lee’s sake, I have a reputation to hold; I’m a supervillain!”

“You’re a tourist attraction.”

“Ooh, are you taking lessons in witty come-backs from Spider-Man?”

“Quite right. Enough talking!” And with this Captain France springs at him—and the Cardinal wishes he could say that he didn’t see it coming.

But the thing is, every single time they cross paths, the Captain jumps at him, sooner or later, so the Cardinal is prepared and ready to greet him—with a blast from his favourite laser gun, for example. It’s a clever little plaything, really good at spicing up their encounters.

Of course, the Captain is familiar with their choreography too, so he dodges the shot and grabs the Cardinal by the waist with one arm. With his other hand, he takes the laser gun, curling its barrel, effectively rendering it useless. What a waste. He’s far more advanced in wrestling but again, the Cardinal isn’t easily surprised and has a few tricks up his sleeve—quite literally. The small blade hidden in his left sleeve slips into his hand and in the next second it’s buried to the hilt in the Captain’s shoulder, making him hiss in pain.

“Nice design, isn’t it?” Even though the Captain’s hold is still strong around him, the Cardinal can’t help a grin. “When I developed this little beauty, I had your extremely resistant skin in my mind.”

“You’ll have my extremely resistant fist in your stomach,” the Captain grunts and wrenches the blade out of his shoulder with his free hand, while simultaneously elbowing the Cardinal in the mouth. Ouch.

“Almost,” the Cardinal groans, driving a knee upward because the Captain might have an extremely tough skin but he still has at least one sensitive spot.

He is also wearing jockstrap which makes the Cardinal’s knee throb with pain but it’s a win-win because protection or not, the Captain is losing his grip on him. Only for a second but it’s enough for the Cardinal to grab a micro grenade (another piece from the collection of brilliant inventions) from his belt and throw it at the Captain. The blow should separate them without hurting them too much— and the good Captain will take the worst of the blast anyway.

When the force of the explosion throws the Cardinal against the wall, knocking the breath out of him, he makes a mental note about further corrections for the grenade. He might have… miscalculated something. Maybe if he reduces the level of—

A weak cough interrupts his train of thoughts.

The Captain is crumpled on the floor, lips busted and nose bleeding. Perfect opportunity for the Cardinal to slip away. However, he stays, staring at his archenemy, stunned. The explosion tore off the Captain’s blue mask (or more like, shredded it into a thousand pieces—it’s a miracle he still has a nose), revealing his face— and the Cardinal knows that face. What's more, he even knows the name that belongs to it as he has met this man on several perfectly ordinary occasions.

Because Captain France, his biggest enemy and ruiner of his best plans, is Jean Tréville, a friend of the Cardinal’s godson, and even though he might be an evil genius, the Cardinal can’t quite wrap his head around this fact.

What in the name of comic books, really.

The Captain, _ Jean_, coughs again and opens his eyes, slowly taking in his surroundings. The pain in his shoulder feels familiar but the warm fluid dripping onto his upper lip must be new to him because he raises a hand to touch his nose—and judging by the widening of his eyes, he immediately realises the problem.

His eyes zero in on the Cardinal who returns the gaze and they stare at each other for a full minute before the Captain breaks the silence.

“Well. My life is in your hands.”

The Cardinal scoffs. “Please. I am your archnemesis. To whom could I sell your secret?”

“To _ Gala_?”

“You’re such a drama queen! I’d never sell your secret identity as some cheap celebrity gossip.”

“Then you’ll go for option B, I guess. Kidnapping my best friend, crucifying the love of my life… that kind of stuff.”

“Maybe you should date _ me _ if you’re so worried about your loved ones,” the Cardinal snorts because seriously?! He has never ever crucified anyone, he has better taste than that. “Or you could kill me.”

“You’re my archnemesis, as you kindly put it. I can’t kill you just like that.” The Captain pushes himself into a sitting position, wincing as he puts too much weight on his injured shoulder. “Also, I’m clearly in no shape for killing anyone.”

“Then could you just wrap your cloak around your face and bugger off?”

“And leave you here to finish your evil scheme? Over my dead body.”

The Cardinal wonders if there is any point in punching someone in the face when their nose is already broken.

“If I wanted you dead, I’d prefer killing you with your mask still in place, thank you very much. So no dead bodies today, sorry.” Call him a monster any day, he won’t deny it, yet the Cardinal will try and not kill anyone if it’s not strictly necessary. “The device is broken, so is your nose and your pride. Why can’t we just go home and lick our wounds in peace?”

Burying his face in his uninjured hand, the Captain groans. “I’m ashamed of myself.”

“And so you should be. But don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you further by helping you up.”

“Thank you.”

The Cardinal is quite sure this isn’t how the scene should have played out but since he can’t bring himself to kill Louis’ friend, the least he can do is to hope that it doesn’t make it to the news.

  
Or to the _ Gala_.


	3. Field Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the fluffbingo prompt: fireman carry

“You have to help me.”

“Mmmm, always so straightforward.”

Sarcastic overtone or not, the Cardinal actually enjoys the Captain’s bossiness. Still, he decides to play hard to get—after all, he has a reputation to hold.

“What about your superhero friends? Don’t you have a union for lending a helping hand?”

“Yeah, well, I’d rather not ask the Institution. I suspect there is a mole amongst us.”

“My, my, if the heroes start stabbing each other in the back, I’ll be out of a job in no time.”

“I’m offering you a job, right now.”

“That’s why you woke me from my beauty sleep?”

“I know that you weren’t asleep. You aren’t even wearing nightclothes,” the Captain points out.

“Why do you think I wear clothes at night?” The Cardinal raises a suggestive eyebrow. But okay, fair enough—he was tinkering with a new prototype superlaser when the signal of an incoming video call came through the secure channel. And since only one the Captain knows the secure channel… “All right, give me the details and I’ll consider your offer.”

“We have to get into the Louvre—” Ahh, of course, it always has to be the Louvre. “—and find something before someone else does.”

“I didn’t know we were starring in _ The Da Vinci Code_. Mentioning codes, how do you square sneaking into the Louvre with your moral code?”

“It’s not breaking-and-entering, more like breaking-and-rearranging.”

“Boring!”

“Come on. You, me, in the dead of the night, hacking a near-impenetrable security system… you’ll love it.”

A tempting offer indeed.

“Fine. I’ll pick you up in front of Carrefour in, let me see, in ten minutes.”

“Which Carrefour?”

The Cardinal rolls his eyes. “The one closest to your flat, obviously. I know that you’re still at home, not crouching on a rooftop, eyeing the Louvre—”

“You said ten minutes.”

Bossy much, huh? The Cardinal smirks. “Let’s make it five.”

Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds later an elegant, black car stops in front of Carrefour (_that _ Carrefour), and the front passenger window is rolled down.

“Get in, sweetheart.”

Captain France steps out of the shadows and gets into the car.

“Since when do you own a Batmobile?”

“Since yesterday when I built myself one. Enjoy the test drive!” The Cardinal tramps on the accelerator, a bit harder than strictly necessary, and the Captain is pressed against the back of his seat. “By the way, it’s not a Batmobile.”

“It totally is.”

“Uh-uh. Good guys drive Batmobiles.”

The Cardinal glances at his red-gloved hands on the steering wheel and wonders if this is the perfect night for testing the car’s speed limit. Not that he wants to impress the Captain, it’s all about science—as a true scientist, he’s all about pushing limits.

“Dark, brooding souls do.”

“Still not me.”

On the other hand, if he miscalculates the velocity and they end up crashing through the Pyramid, the Captain won’t thank him. Surely, it would look good in his supervillain CV but it would also ruin the sneaking-in part of the plan.

“Tall... dark... handsome...”

“So you think I’m handsome?”

He really shouldn’t be flirting with his archnemesis—even if he considers the Moirai old acquaintances, even if he loves to taunt Death, flirting with his nemesis might be just a step over that thin line one should never cross. It could ruin the careful balance of their relationship. All his life is about wanting something he cannot have and coming up with cunning schemes to get it, yet wanting the good Captain feels like a bit too big bite, even for him. He can steal the biggest diamond in the world, hack the president’s private email account, or open every single prison cell just to spite the police, but he can never have Jean.

“Park the car over there,” the Captain says hoarsely, ignoring the question.

Right. The game is on.

Slipping into the Louvre is so easy that the Cardinal wonders why he didn’t try it before. Maybe he just lacked the ideal company for the project. Which is what exactly...?

“So, what’s the plan?”

“First floor, Department of Decorative Arts. We’re going to—”

“Steal the French Crown Jewels?”

“What? No! Do I look like the Gangsta Granny?” the Captain hisses. “We’re going to rearrange the Gilbert and Rose-Marie Chagoury gallery.”

“You may not look like the Gangsta Granny but you don’t look like Elsie de Wolfe either.”

“Quiet!”

Losing his patience, the Captain yanks him closer with one hand and presses a finger to the Cardinal’s lips. The Cardinal barely resists the urge to lick it.

“Behave or else.”

_ Do you really, really want me to behave?_, the Cardinal thinks but instead of making a witty comment, he slowly nods. Blessed are the meek. Much for his dissatisfaction, the Captain releases him and takes a step back.

“Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble, and then somehow they make it to the Gilbert and Rose-Marie Chagoury gallery without a major incident. No security guard, no alarm bells, no misbehaviour. “So, the plan. I’m going to switch those two cupboards. Right now the position of the furniture in the room holds, er, a deadly code.”

“Are you serious?!”

Maybe they are starring in _ The Da Vinci Code_, after all.

“No, I just wanted an excuse to drag you here in the middle of the night!” the good Captain snaps and the Cardinal could purr with delight. Trying a certain masked superhero’s patience is one of his favourite spare-time activities. “Of course I’m serious. That code could bring the end of humanity.”

“Brilliant! Can I crack it?”

“No! Now, be a darling and keep watch.”

“Really? What a waste of my talents.”

“And while you’re at it, put the Mona Lisa back to its place.”

“Does this mean that I have to unload the Law Code of Hammurabi from the car’s trunk?”

“Armand, please— I mean, Cardinal— No, still not right… Gosh, how do I call you?”

“Evil bastard will do just fine.”

The Captain sighs. “Why don’t you just hold my cape while I’m doing all the work?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Even if they look utterly ridiculous now—the Captain moving cupboards and the Cardinal marching behind him like a bridesmaid.

“So, why am I holding it?”

“To keep your hands occupied so you won’t get any ideas.”

“Ohh, please, I can get plenty of ideas, hands full or not.”

To prove it, the Cardinal tries to steal a vase by wrapping it in the Captain’s cape. However...

“Put that down, babe. NOW.” ...the owner of the cape whisper-shouts at him. Too bad.

“Since you asked so nicely…” the Cardinal pouts but does as he was told. “I’m bored.”

“Hold on, we’re nearly finished here.” The cupboard is positioned, legs and millimeters are checked and— “See? All done. Ready to go?”

For a second it seems that they are leaving just like they arrived—unnoticed. Then they cross the threshold and an alarm goes off.

“What’s this? I thought you had taken care of the security system!”

“Told you I was bored.”

“When— How— Oh, never mind! Run!” Now it’s a full-hearted shout which makes the Cardinal suspect that yelling at a certain masked villain might be one of the _ good _ Captain’s favourite hobbies.

“I despise running,” he protests. “That’s why I own a car, a glider, and a pair of wings.”

“See, I don’t want tomorrow’s headlines frame me as the next Vincenzo Peruggia, so excuse me if I don’t give a damn about your complaints.” And with that the Captain throws him upon his shoulder in a fireman carry and the Cardinal’s dignity flies out of the window accompanied by an involuntary yelp.

Now both of them have a pretty good reason not to get caught—and trust the Captain to get them out of the building before a security guard could catch a glimpse of them. And he doesn’t even use the Cardinal’s body as a battering ram! (At this point, the Cardinal wouldn’t be surprised at anything. _ Anything _ at all.) Well. This is going to be, if not the most glorious, but certainly their most memorable escape.

“I’m giving you a lift,” the Cardinal grunts, finally back on the ground with his two feet and hastily rearranging his costume, “but you’re sitting in the trunk.”

“With the Law Code of Hammurabi?”

Is it just the moonlight or the Captain’s eyes are shining with mischief? Hard to tell with the mask shadowing his gaze.

The Cardinal prepares himself for a sarcastic answer, maybe a sharp come-back— then he just shrugs and points at the car (still not a Batmobile).

"Jump in, sweetheart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta because we die like men.  
Also: beta wanted (because we don't want to die just yet).


	4. Reputation (Never Been Worse)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumped ahead a bit and this drabble takes place after our favourite duo has entered a relationship for some time now. Fear not, there will be a getting together fic someday.

This time they don’t fight with each other, they fight Claquesous—together. It isn’t how the Cardinal imagined his day would go. But when he might or might not have hacked into the city’s surveillance cameras to take a peek at his lover and noticed said lover having a conflict with a petty but still rather dangerous criminal, he gathered his robes and flew to the scene.

It takes them no time to trap Claquesous and now he is tied to a pillar of Pont au Change. (At least he chose a scenic place for doing his misdeeds.) They work disturbingly well together, the Cardinal has to admit. In fact, they do everything so well together. For example, ever since they got together, lots of their conflicts have been resolved by angry wall sex, much satisfactoroly. (If the building survives their encounter, that’s a bonus.)

But the Cardinal more and more often finds himself fighting the Captain’s battles and not against him. By his lover’s side, with the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he even enjoys these occasions. But at the end of the day, he has to face that fighting alongside the resident superhero of Paris does little to no good to his supervillain-y reputation.

“Thanks for lending a hand. Although I had everything under control.”

“Sure.” The Cardinal can’t help a smirk. “You’d better because you can’t expect me to drop by every single time you get in trouble. I have a—”

“Reputation to hold, yes. I know. Your reputation is my old friend. I have heard you mention it with consi—”

“Don’t you dare to finish that sentence.”

“You could shut me up.” If the Cardinal is not mistaken, the good Captain is hinting at something. “You see, this is a bridge.”

“Hm?”

“I’m just saying that we are sitting on top of a bridge. You know. A bridge. The very place where, according to the movies at least, you’re supposed to do some kissing if you’re a masked vigilante.”

The Cardinal would argue with this statement but he has seen zero superhero movies so far, only heard about the upside-down kiss from his niece, hence he doesn’t have enough ammunition, so to speak. Never mind, he tries to attack from a different point of view.

“This is Pont au Change.”

“So?”

“It lacks the height of Golden Gate.”

“But it has you.”

There are some arguments that are meant to be lost. Traditions that are meant to be kept. Superheroes meant to be kissed.

If today ends with Armand snogging Jean on Pont au Change under the shadow of his cloak (masks make kissing extremely complicated), with a criminal at their feet, he won’t complain. Even if it is yet another nail in the coffin of his reputation.


	5. You’re Still Glowin’, You’re Still Crowin’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the kisses bingo prompt: straightening bow tie and/or collar  
Takes place before chapter 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse for the title— except maybe that _Hello Dolly_ got stuck in my head? And I don't even like the movie.

Armand might not approve of Louis’ fiancée, but he has to admit that Anne knows how to throw a lavish party. Although the crystal decorations make the house look like the Snow Queen’s castle, somehow the overall impression of the event still manages to stay in bounds of good taste and elegance. And if the smart-looking jazz band fails to get everyone into an amiable mood, there’s plenty of alcohol to do the job.

The engagement party certainly makes Louis look like Bruce Wayne, but will the marriage make him happy?

“This sour look doesn’t fit your suit, you know.”

Jean approaches him—with a glass of white wine in his hand (it might be the reason behind his playful tone) and wearing a tuxedo he seems like any other ordinary guest. It’s strange to see him out of his Captain France costume, although he is a surprisingly pleasant sight.

“Nice suit, though. Smart casual, isn’t that the right expression? You surely look very smart, Armand.”

Many possible answers flash through Armand’s mind. _ You don’t look so bad either? _ Too flirting. _ And you look very handsome? _ Might as well throw himself on one knee and beg for Jean’s hand in marriage. _ Blue suits you? _ But Jean isn’t wearing any blue right now, for Stan Lee’s sake!

He settles for good old bickering in the end.

“And it looks like someone was in a hurry,” he says with a smirk, and, with a pointed look, reaches out to straighten Jean’s bow tie. “Got yourself into a little fight with someone, hm? The goody two shoes Captain, always keeping a watchful eye on Paris.” Enjoying Jean’s surprised but only slightly annoyed huff, Armand takes his time with the rebellious bow tie and makes a show of fixing it. “There.”

Before he could come up with another witty remark or take a step back to admire his work with smug satisfaction, Louis surprises them with chirping in from their left.

“You two should be dating.”

Both carefully avoiding looking at the other, Armand and Jean speak at once.

“Over my dead body.” Although this is a figure of speech Captain France likes to use, now it slips from Armand’s lips, just as Jean says, “Oh, very _ funny_.”

“Seriously, you would make such a power couple.”

“Thank goodness, I thought you were going to say ‘sweet’ couple,” Armand mocks, while his heart is thumping wildly in his chest. He’s still standing close to Jean, so close he can smell his cologne, and a little voice in the back of his mind is whispering that Louis is right. With their forces combined, they would be unstoppable. “My dear boy, it’s your engagement party, you’re in love and happy, just as you should be, and you want to see everyone else happy.” The little voice is being locked up behind a firm door, keys thrown away. “But love is the privilege of the young. You needn’t worry about such useless old beans like us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jean grunts, just when Louis exclaims, “Oh, but you can’t mean that!”

The conversation is spiralling from uncomfortable into absolutely awkward. Armand can’t just say _ “Look, this guy threw a truck at me not three days ago, effectively stopping me from robbing a bank; he’d be the last person I’d date” _ for very obvious reasons. Also, being the number one criminal mastermind of Paris doesn’t exactly make Armand the ideal boyfriend material either. Not to mention, it would be the lamest identity reveal ever.

So, in the end, he decides to simply chide Louis for acting like a spoilt child.

“I don’t think that my romantic life is your concern.”

Louis immediately turns pink. He has always looked up to his godfather with a healthy amount of respect and a little bit of fear. “I’m sorry— I just meant— Well, your chemistry is so great and—”

“I think we exhausted the topic. Let’s drop it, shall we?” Armand offers generously. “Why don’t you help Anne to escape the Maquets’ clutches? I’m sure she’d appreciate the rescue; she’s been enjoying their attention for some time now.”

“Ah, yes, poor Anne…”

Staring at Louis’ retreating back, Armand takes a few seconds to arrange his features into a mild sneer before turning to Jean.

“Well. That was interesting.”

His voice leaves no doubt that by interesting he means ‘utterly ridiculous’.

Jean shrugs. “Opposites attract, they say.”

It’s true that Armand considers Captain France a worthy opponent, and, from a certain point of view, finds his ‘honest man of action’ style attractive. Out of their costumes, if they bump into each other, he quite enjoys Jean’s company— he sometimes even prefers it at events like this very engagement party. However...

“Opposites maybe, but not archenemies.”

“I mean, ‘over my dead body’, really?!”

Now it’s Armand’s turn to shrug. “Over _ someone’s _ dead body at least.”

And if he wants to reach out to fix that crooked half-smirk on Jean’s face? Well, that’s just nobody’s business.


	6. He Puts Them On His Naughty List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve and the Cardinal is up to no good.

“I thought you were called the Cardinal, not Père Noël.”

Navigating a fully decorated Christmas tree isn’t easy, even on a flat rooftop, and doing it while your archenemy is expressing his gloating sympathy only makes it more complicated.

“Although I realise now that the red robe can be quite confusing. My mistake.”

With a final grunt, Richelieu positions the tree in the vehicle, then starts securing it into place. He’s ignoring the Captain, who is annoyingly good at thwarting his wile plans— and it always starts with a little bit of _ almost _jovial banter…

“Is that a sleigh? An actual sleigh with little bells and everything?” There is a hint of a little boy’s amusement in Jean’s voice. “That’s what I call a real career change.”

“The only thing that will change is this sleigh into an armchair after Operation Christmas.” After checking for the last time that the tree is sitting tight, the Cardinal takes his place behind the console. “Are you going to get in or what?”

“I should be patrolling.” But Jean is already climbing into the sleigh, settling next to Armand. It’s a snug fit, the space being a bit too small for two grown-up men and a decorated conifer, but they’ll manage.

“Then I’m giving you a lift. Consider it your Christmas present.”

“Does this mean that I’m on your Nice List?”

“Having a Nice List would oppose my very nature, tooth and nail.”

Checking the control system and pressing fancy buttons that light up in red and green feels almost Christmas-y, but doing it in leather gloves feels very, very cool and villain-y— and it’s obvious that the Captain can’t feel the weight of the moment.

“Then I hope that at least I’m number one on your Naughty List, Père Fouettard.”

“Keep these sassy comebacks coming, and you’ll find yourself on the receiving end of some corporal punishment.”

“Even if I tell you how much I appreciate the mechanical reindeers? Such a nice touch.”

“Hold tight and prepare for take-off.”

They don’t shoot into the sky like it’s done in Christmas movies, but it’s an abrupt, bumpy start, and although ‘hold tight’ was just a figure of speech, not a literal offer, Jean steadies himself on Armand’s leather-clad knee. It’s a firm but not crushing grip—a nice touch indeed.

“Seriously, why this whole parade?”

The Cardinal scoffs; the question tells tales about the lack of the Captain’s imagination. “It’s Christmas Eve; this is the perfect disguise.”

“All this effort just to reward—”

“Mr. Villiers. And he’s been a very, very naughty boy.”

“Wait a minute. George Villiers?”

“Yes.”

“British ambassador George Villiers?”

With an extreme amount of self-control, the Cardinal resists rolling his eyes.

“Yes.”

“Why on Earth are you giving him a Christmas tree?”

“I want to plant it in front of his fancy embassy because he is a big, fat pr—”

“Please don’t.”

“And he should shove this tree up into his ar—”

“Thank you for the mental image.”

“Because Anne is cheating on Louis with this slimy keyhole peeper, this imbecile, this utter mo—”

“Okay, okay, I get it— What? Anne is doing what?!”

“Weasel-faced Mr. Villiers has been Anne’s lover for months now.”

“But— But Louis and Anne got married merely half a year ago.” Jean sounds genuinely distressed about the news and Armand almost regrets telling him. “Does Louis know?”

“Of course not.”

“What is Anne thinking?”

“I have no idea, but honestly, it’s not my business. I just want to nettle Villiers.”

“Nettle.”

“By doing the worst possible thing.”

“Which is?”

“Ruining Christmas for him.”

“With a carefully decorated, huge Christmas tree. Perfectly reasonable.”

As he’s preparing for landing, Richelieu smirks to himself. “You haven’t seen the lights yet.”

With Jean’s help, unloading and positioning the tree goes much quicker than packing it in, and, lulled into a generous mood, Armand even deletes every trace of their presence. Even though it could do little harm to his image to appear on the security footage of the embassy, getting filmed while cooperating with the good Captain France would raise certain questions.

“Ready?”

Richelieu flips the switch and the Christmas tree lights up, revealing its full splendor and advertising in jolly red letters that GEORGE VILLIERS HAS GOT A LITTLE PRICK.

“Is that— is that a _ Love Actually _ reference?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you’re such a bad guy.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“Well then, here’s my Christmas present to you.” With a deep breath, Jean tears his eyes from the tree and faces Armand. “I think that you’re a genius, I _ know _ that you’re a genius, and, despite all my complaining, I’m sort of proud that I get to be your archenemy.”

Armand definitely, _ definitely _ doesn’t huff to cover that he feels a wee bit touched.

“I deserve you.”

“That said, I think we both deserve hot, alcoholic drinks to warm our old bones.”

The offer is very tempting but the Cardinal must show a little reluctance. “What would consorting with the enemy do to my reputation?”

“Come on. I have a thermos full of extra spicy mulled wine.”

  
It’s a powerful argument, and If they end up drunken singing _ O Holy Night _on top of Tour Montparnasse, nobody will know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be safe, be kind to each other, and drink a cup of <s>mulled wine</s> kindness with your enemies.  
Merry Christmas!


End file.
